Savor the Danger

by Lori Foster

  “And he was always around.”

  “I barely got asked out, rarely got kissed. I didn’t have much success at anything else.”

  “So…” She’d been a virgin before being kidnapped?

  “Bet I was even more naive than you imagined, huh?”

  An invisible vise clenched around his heart. “The assholes who took you…?”

  “No.” She shook her head. “They didn’t rape me. Not…like you mean.”

  Fury stole his voice. He watched her.

  “They…well, they were saving me.” She tightened her lips; her breath trembled. “I was too afraid to understand much of what they said, but they got their point across all the same.”

  He couldn’t move. Hell, he could barely breathe.

  “I’m sorry.” She rolled her eyes. “Here I am, spoiling our dinner.”

  Needing to touch her, Jackson reached for her hands. “How long did they have you, honey?”

  As if the damn broke, she started talking fast. “Time runs together and drags out when you’re terrorized. I couldn’t tell day from night. It felt like weeks, but I know it wasn’t. I didn’t sleep, and I didn’t want to eat, but they insisted. I was so dirty, I could smell myself.” She squeezed his fingers, holding on tight. “We were all dirty. The room was so hot and there wasn’t any fresh air, and they didn’t really give us the means to clean up.”

  He knew from talking with other victims how the loss of dignity hurt as much as the physical abuse.

  “They do that on purpose. To break you down.” Jackson wasn’t sure she heard him. “But you didn’t let them.”

  “I felt so sick from whatever they’d given me. When they’d get near me again, I’d do this awful dry heaving, and they laughed about it. I was so ashamed. Especially with how they treated Molly.”

  Molly, now Dare’s wife, had been in an altogether different situation. They hadn’t planned to sell her. “Did she talk to you?”

  Alani nodded. “One of the men kept pinching me. Not hard enough to leave a mark, just enough to get me hysterical again.” She chewed her bottom lip. “Molly would yell at them, call them names.” Her eyes sank shut, and she whispered, “They weren’t as concerned about bruising her.”

  Jackson swallowed hard. He knew Dare still had to suffer his own torment over what Molly had gone through.

  “I wanted to beg her to be quiet.” Alani stared at him, her expression desperate. “But I was afraid to say anything.”

  He drew her hand to his mouth and kissed her white knuckles. “I’m glad Dare killed them.”

  “Yes.” By small degrees, she composed herself. She stared at her half-empty plate before searching his face. “You’d have killed them, too?”

  “With pleasure.”

  “You…have killed people?”

  Jackson went still inside, wondering what she needed to hear, how much he should tell her. He tried to weigh the ugliness of truth against the morality of justice.

  Alani’s smile came and went. “It’s okay. I know you can’t say much.” She started to pull her hands away.

  He didn’t let her. “When it’s warranted, I have no problem at all putting someone out of commission.”

  “Meaning…” She had a problem with the word, saying tentatively, “Dead?”

  He had no problems. “Definitely dead.”

  Unfazed by his answer, she asked, “Have you saved any women from human traffickers?” She rushed on to explain. “I’m not being nosy. Well, I mean, I guess I am. But I know most of what Trace and Dare do these days centers around that.”

  “Yeah.” Seeing that she was back to herself again, he let her hands go and pressed her plate toward her. “How about you finish eating while we talk?”

  He waited for her to say she wasn’t hungry. He waited for her to give in to the upset of old memories, to maybe have lost her appetite.

  Instead, she agreed and cut into her steak again.

  In so many ways, she pleased him. “From what I understand, Dare and Trace started out doing anything and everything they considered righteous. Like saving a senator’s kidnapped son, rescuing a businessman held hostage in another country, busting up a cult—” he raised a brow “—or busting up a government conspiracy. That kind of stuff.”

  “Seriously? Wow. I knew he did dangerous work. And I knew he had some major contacts. But I hadn’t realized…”

  “He’s shielded you.” Jackson couldn’t fault Trace for that. “Some of the shit they’ve dealt with isn’t fit for sharing with a baby sister.”

  “How do you know? Do you have a sister?”

  “Nope. No brothers, either.” Now wasn’t the time to talk about Arizona, and he really didn’t want to go into family comparisons. “They’d tangled plenty of times with human traffickers, sometimes out of the country, sometimes in. Then you were taken, and that made it more personal for Trace.”

  “But it’s not personal for you?”

  Since meeting her, it’d gotten real personal, but he only shrugged. “I’m good at what I do. It suits me better than anything else could.”

  She finished off her iced tea and pushed back her near-empty plate. “You really are confident, aren’t you?”

  “If you’re worried about me keeping you safe, don’t be.”

  “It’s not that.” Going all sweet and shy on him, she ducked her face. “After those men took me, I couldn’t seem to get very interested in any man. I tried, though.”

  “With Marc Tobin.” Saying the bastard’s name left a foul taste in his mouth.

  “That’s just it. The reason we split up, I mean. I wanted to like him. I did like him as a person.” She shrugged. “Not so much as a man.”

  Was she saying what he hoped she was saying? “You didn’t sleep with him?”

  Hesitation held her, and then she shook her head. “No.”

  Damn. Bet that burned Tobin’s ass. Jackson knew firsthand how it was to want her but not have her. Venturing a guess, he said, “You got tired of him pressing the issue?”

  “Yes.”

  The last rays of the setting sun blazed across the sky in fiery shades of red, casting mysterious shadows over Alani’s face. “But you slept with me?”

  Her deep breath drew his attention to her breasts. “You.” She took two more breaths. “And only you.”

  His gaze shot to hers. He croaked, “You were a virgin?” And he’d missed it? Not that he’d ever before considered a woman’s virginity to be a prized asset, but with Alani…yeah. He loved the idea that no one else had touched her.

  “And you were incredible.” She tipped her head, timid but determined. “I’ve thought about this ever since, and if you don’t mind showing me everything there is, everything I’ve missed—”

  “Hell, yeah,” he rushed to say.

  But she hadn’t finished. “If you don’t mind a nostrings-attached type of relationship…” She let that trail off, something stark in her expression as she watched him, waiting.

  What the hell? He pokered up in affront, unsure what to say to that.

  Softly sighing, she braced her shoulders and stared at him. “Well then, I’d like to…you know.”

  Damn it, that “no strings” comment stung. He wasn’t ready to dissect his own feelings, but he did feel something. Lots of things, actually, not all of them physical. It burned his ass that she might not be as involved as him.

  “You want to experiment with me? Is that what you’re saying?” He made it sound like a sneer, expecting her to correct him, hoping she’d say that she wanted more—from him and with him.

  Instead, she nodded. “Yes.” And almost as an afterthought, “Please.”

  God, she wanted to use him. For sexual pleasure. Her pleasure.

  She’d just flat-out admitted it.

  He felt like a lab rat—a really, really turned-on lab rat. Anticipating everything she might want to try, the explorations that came to mind had him sweltering with need.

  Jackson pushed everything to th
e side of the table and reached across it for her.

  He’d always known he had a breaking point—and Alani, bless her innocent little heart, had just found it.

  CHAPTER NINE

  ONE MINUTE JACKSON had her half over the table, his hands clamped onto her upper arms as he devoured her mouth with enough intensity to press back her head, leaving her helpless in his embrace.

  In the next instant, he was on her side of the picnic table, stationed in front of her as if to shield her with his now tensed body.

  But from what?

  In his right hand, he held a steak knife. She recognized the lethal way he gripped it from demonstrations given to her by her brother.

  Alani tried to adjust to the new circumstance. She didn’t even know how he’d gotten to her side of the table so quickly. She definitely didn’t know why he wielded a knife. “What the—”

  “Go inside.”

  The hard command brooked no arguments, but she couldn’t seem to budge without knowing why he wanted her gone. She tried to see over his shoulder, but got a glimpse of only her yard—no threats. “Jackson, what in the world is—”

  Her ex-boyfriend, Marc Tobin, poked his head around the side of the house.

  When he saw them, he drew up short, startled.

  They stared at each other. Marc’s gaze went from Alani to all over Jackson, and no way could he miss Jackson’s aggressive mood.

  “Marc.” Alani had to speak from behind Jackson, since he wouldn’t let her move around in front of him. “What are you doing here?”

  Not since telling him, indisputably, that they were done had she heard from Marc. Their relationship hadn’t ended well, not that there’d ever been much of a relationship to begin with. But she couldn’t see Marc as dangerous. Annoying, yes, but he wouldn’t hurt her.

  “I knocked.” His dark eyes went from Jackson to what little he could see of Alani on tiptoe looking over Jackson’s shoulder, and back again.

  Already, Jackson had relaxed his stance, flipping the knife around so that instead of it being gripped as a weapon, he held it as a utensil.

  But his other hand continued to keep Alani at his back.

  Indignant, disapproving, Marc took another step toward them. “What’s going on here? Alani, are you all right?”

  She peeked again—and saw that Marc looked ready to jump to her unnecessary defense. If she let that happen, Jackson would annihilate him. She didn’t have a single doubt.

  “I’m fine.” She pinched Jackson hard on the rump and said with insistence, “Excuse me,” as she stepped around him.

  Jackson, who was focused on Marc with burning intensity, jumped from the goose. “Ow, woman.” Blindly he reached for and found her wrist to keep her at his side. To Marc, he said, “You’re interrupting our dinner.”

  The rudeness appalled her. Once again, Alani made use of her elbow; this time, it had no discernable effect on Jackson. He stood there, a large immovable object, his gaze a laser of dislike aimed at Marc.

  “Oh, for the love of—” She didn’t want to cause more of a scene, so she pasted on a smile. “Marc, I’m sorry, but obviously you’ve caught me at a bad time.”

  “It was a great time,” Jackson drawled, “until he showed up.”

  “I see now.” Marc put his hands on his hips, his aggression pulsing off him in waves. “You left me for him.”

  “I was never with you,” Alani reminded him. “We dated a few times, that’s all.”

  “I wanted more.”

  Yes, he’d wanted sex. When he wouldn’t take no for an answer, she’d ended things. “That was never going to happen, and you know it.”

  “Because you were fucking him, is that it?”

  The crude insult stunned her. “You’re way out of line.”

  That Jackson remained silent was nothing short of a miracle. But then, maybe he didn’t mind letting Marc make an ass of himself.

  Dressed in a pullover and black slacks that showed off his trim, muscular build, Marc looked as impeccable as always. He also looked petulant.

  Somehow he ran a hand over his styled, dark hair without mussing it at all. “I need to talk to you, honey. Alone.”

  Jackson said, “Ain’t happening,” and when Alani tried to step forward, he amended that to, “She has nothing to say to you, pal. Tough breaks, but that’s how it goes.”

  God, she would kill Jackson. Later. Glaring up at him, she said, “Let me go.”

  His eyes narrowed, but his shrug looked casual enough as he opened his hand and released her.

  Apologetic, Alani took a few steps toward Marc. “You remember Jackson Davidson?”

  “We met,” Marc agreed, not looking away from her. He wore a deliberately tortured expression. “Couldn’t we find a little privacy?”

  Knowing that wouldn’t happen, not with Marc being a potential suspect, no matter how ridiculous she found that to be, Alani made her excuses. Voice low, she said, “Marc, it’s over between us. There’s nothing more to say.”

  He breathed harder. “So I was right. You’re with him now?” He jerked his head toward Jackson.

  To her relief, Jackson again said nothing. When she glanced back at him, Alani found him searching the distant area beyond her backyard. She frowned and turned back to Marc. “We’re dating,” she fibbed, because that sounded better than saying they were in lust.

  “If it’s the same type of dating we did, does that mean you haven’t slept with him?”

  Enough already. Alani put back her shoulders. “That is none of your business. I meant it when I said it was over.”

  Marc took a fast, forceful step toward her.

  Alani flinched, waiting for Jackson to attack.

  She glanced back again in time to see him seat himself at the table, his expression bored. Odd. And almost insulting.

  “I want it to be my business.” Marc paid Jackson no mind. “That’s what I need to talk about with you. I know I…I screwed up.”

  She did not want to have this conversation in front of Jackson. “It really had nothing to do with you, Marc.” He wasn’t Jackson, so no matter what he did or didn’t do, it never would have worked out.

  Marc denied that with a shake of his head. “I rushed you, and I’m sorry for that. I should have shown more patience.”

  Jackson cracked his knuckles and yawned loudly.

  Knowing Jackson to be unpredictable, Alani concentrated on ending the conversation, and fast. She took Marc’s hands. “It wouldn’t have mattered, Marc. I’m sorry, but it just wasn’t there for me.”

  “I don’t buy that.” He tugged her closer, his voice now intimate. “We had fun. You were warming up to me, you just needed more time.”

  Jackson made a sound of impatience.

  And his tone generous, superior, Marc added, “I didn’t realize at the time that you had sexual hang-ups.”

  Alani’s eyes flared at hearing Marc say such a thing.

  “But we’ll work around that.” He lowered his voice, sounding more intimate. “I have some ideas.”

  “Tobin,” Jackson said with disbelief, “you are seriously whack-a-doodle, you know that?”

  Whack-a-doodle? That was his reaction? Bemused, Alani stared at Jackson.

  He shrugged. “Well, he is.” And then with insistence: “You do not have hang-ups.”

  True enough. With Jackson, she had no inhibitions, sexual or otherwise.

  Marc’s mouth touched her neck. “Give me another chance, Alani.”

  A wave of revulsion landed her firmly back in the here and now. “No.”

  He resisted her efforts to put space between them. “If you give me another chance, I can help you.”

  Help her? “You are whack-a-doodle!” Oh God, now she sounded like Jackson.

  “When you want me to intervene,” Jackson told her lazily, “just lemme know.”

  “Fuck you!” Marc said.

  Jackson raised a brow. “What do you say, honey? Couldn’t I muss him up just a little?”


  Alani groaned. For whatever reason that suited him, Jackson had allowed her to handle this situation when she knew it went against the grain for him to do so. Like Trace and Dare, he was a man who would intervene for any woman facing a pushy suitor, but for a woman under his protection, it had to be doubly tough to stand aside.

  Marc, being an astute man, should have realized his precarious position. Apparently, he did not.

  Time to take charge. “I do not need—”

  “We’ll go slow, babe, I promise.” He put his mouth to her temple even as she strained away from him. “I’ll ease you into things. You’ll love it.”

  “You will shut up.” She gasped. “Right now.” Her face burned. Her stomach jolted—in disgust. Marc had never appealed to her sexually. No man had until Jackson. “I do not have hang-ups.”

  “She doesn’t,” Jackson confirmed.

  “And,” Alani said loudly, before Marc could react to Jackson’s jibe, “I don’t need your help.”

  He caressed her upper arms. “But you were so squeamish about everything.”

  If being utterly disinterested counted as squeamish. She slapped his hands away. “What is wrong with you? How dare you talk about this here, now?”

  “With me listening in, she means,” Jackson offered helpfully. “Crass, man. Really crass.”

  “You’re not helping, Jackson.” God save her from the male species.

  “You won’t let me help.”

  “Can’t you go inside?”

  He snorted. “I can take him apart, that’s what I can do.” At his leisure, Jackson unfolded himself from the table and stood—tall, broad-shouldered, oh-so-imposing, in front of them. Sporting a hilarious, pleading face, he implored, “C’mon, Alani. Let me hurt him. He’s begging for it.”

  Marc bunched up like a junkyard dog. He snarled and set her aside. “Why don’t you try?”

  Alani felt she had to be fair. She stepped in front of Marc. “Just so you know, he will destroy you. And given how you’re behaving, I might let him.”

  “I’m not a slouch.” He flexed his hands. “I can handle myself.”

  “I never said you couldn’t. But don’t let Jackson’s laid-back attitude deceive you. He would love to fight right now, and you truly wouldn’t be a match.” Not in any way. “You should trust me on this.”